


Knocking Nicky Up

by chase_acow



Category: CSI
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-06
Updated: 2005-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Um, right.  This is for the “Knock Nicky Up” Challenge, but I cheated.  I’m in a program really.  Baby steps to writing real MPreg.  So anyway, this is what I came up with.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Knocking Nicky Up

**Author's Note:**

> Um, right. This is for the “Knock Nicky Up” Challenge, but I cheated. I’m in a program really. Baby steps to writing real MPreg. So anyway, this is what I came up with.

_**Knocking Nicky Up: CSI Fic**_  
Title: Knocking Nicky Up  
Author: Sly  
Fandom: CSI  
Pairing: Nick/Warrick  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if they were, I’d know who stole the cookies from the cookie jar.  
Summery: A short interchange between the boys wherein teasing and mild making out might occur.

Author’s Notes: Um, right. This is for the “Knock Nicky Up” Challenge, but I cheated. I’m in a program really. Baby steps to writing real MPreg. So anyway, this is what I came up with.

Nick carefully lowered himself into the easy chair, feeling at once, cautious and self-conscious of the unaccustomed weight at his stomach. Letting out a small sigh as he settled in more comfortably, he wiggled his toes trying to return some feeling to them.

He set his drink down on the end table and let his head fall back, closing his eyes as he felt the tension in his body release. Warrick was late, and Nick didn’t know if the urge to cry came from anger or frustration, but frustration won out as he realized he’d left the bowl of pretzels in the kitchen.

Using both hands he levered himself up and out of the chair with a grunt and then padded noiselessly into the kitchen. The snacks were right where he left them, in a green bowl by the sink where they taunted him with their salty goodness.

Nick paused a moment to adjust the awkward pull on his shirt that he was sure he’d never get used to. He was so busy cursing at the excess of material that he didn’t hear the soft footfalls behind him, and he let out an undignified squawk as arms settled gently around his midsection.

“Warrick!” Nicky yelped griping the edge of the sink until his knuckles were white. He’d been jumpy lately, even months later, he still hadn’t completely gotten back his equilibrium after being buried alive. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would and knew he’d only gotten as far as he had with Warrick’s help.

Warrick chuckled his voice low and sexy and leaned closer speaking in Nick’s ear knowing he caused the shivers that ran through the other man’s body, “Mmm, barefoot, pregnant, _and_ in the kitchen! Does my night get any better?”

Rolling his eyes, Nick broke away, moving to the opposite counter. “Oh, please, join the twenty-first century already! Besides, you can’t honestly tell me that there’s anything pleasing about this situation.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Warrick replied taking his time to eye Nicky up and down and enjoy the subsequent blush that stained his partner’s face. “I think you’re kinda sexy like this.”

Before Nick could find a retort for that, Warrick had crossed the distance between them and boxed him in with his arms. Feeling his heart start to race again, Nick let his eyes slide shut as Warrick leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the mouth being careful not to rest too much of his weight on Nick.

“You’re a sick, sick man, Warrick Brown,” Nick muttered, pressing his forehead up against Warrick’s and reveling in their closeness.

“And you like it,” Warrick teased, moving for another quick kiss before sauntering back to munch on the nearly forgotten pretzels.

“Maybe,” Nick said, putting his hands on his hips, “but next time we have to recreate a crime scene with a pregnant victim, _you_ get to wear the belly!”

“In your dreams, Stokes. Now, let’s go kill you.”


End file.
